


Watching

by Bioluminescent



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Fate & Destiny, Fate Versus Free Will, Free Will, Friendship, Self-Doubt, discussion of heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:46:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27928495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bioluminescent/pseuds/Bioluminescent
Summary: Ioun goes to Melora for a discussion on heroes and choices.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay & Melora the Wildmother, Fjord & Melora the Wildmother (Critical Role), Melora the Wildmother (Critical Role) & Ioun the Knowing Mistress
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	Watching

The musty scent-taste of tea leaves is slow to depart, lingering gently like a cat does under the warm strength of the sun. Melora smiles as the soft power of her disciple dissipates, humming to herself in contentment as she draws herself back from his mind.

His questions worry her, as she knows he and his herd are beginning to hunt something outside of her knowledge and power. But she trusts as well. And while she knows that Caduceus accepts death, she believes that he might be a bit more hesitant to leave now that he has found a place to belong.

An impatient huff drags her attention away from her follower and she smiles again, glancing over her shoulder from where she kneels to meet irritated purple eyes.

“It is not often that you seek my company, Ioun, for all that you enjoy it.”

Ioun rolls her eyes and stalks forwards, footsteps soft against the damp moss. “I have never been this vexed before in my life, and you know it.”

Watching as she wrinkles her nose at sitting on wet earth, Melora merely raises one eyebrow, unimpressed.

She has to stifle a laugh when Ioun catches her look and huffs again, settling the robes neatly around her legs as she sits, hands folding neatly together. Melora waits as Ioun raises her face to the dappled sunlight trickling down to them in the clearing, white hair gleaming starbright as it falls over her shoulders.

“I’m certain that is not true, my friend. Just last week Pelor --”

“Pelor is not the reason I came here, Melora,” Ioun sniffs, “Regardless of his poor taste in judgement and opinion on the classics.”

Melora smiles again. “The explosions and lightning said otherwise. As well as the scorch marks you managed to sear into his robes. He was rather put out about that, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh I’m so _sorry_ he came to you to whine about being wrong, I would never wish that upon anyone.”

At that, Melora lets out a bark of laughter, several birds chirping in irritation and fleeing into the air. The sound bounces around them, and they sit in peace for several moments before Ioun sighs.

“Does it bother you? That it’s like this?”

Melora hums, and waits.

“What good are we when we are unable to answer the questions they ask? If we can’t know, why are they then the ones who are expected to find the answers?” Ioun frowns down at her hands, white knuckled as they twist together in her lap.

She jumps when Melora rests a hand gently on her own, eyes flitting up to meet hers, and she smiles, as gently as she can.

“It is part of life, that there are questions that have been left unanswered. Partly because there needs to be some journey to reach those answers, and partly because there is no answer yet.” Wistfulness fills her, and Melora knows that her smile has turned bittersweet. “The ones we choose are those burdened with these questions because they were chosen.”

Before she can continue, Ioun bites out sharply, “And how dare we burden them with that when we are the ones who gave them the questions? We can only do so much to protect them from the world, from themselves.”

“And perhaps it is cruel of us to burden them like that, my friend. But they also had a choice, in accepting our burdens.” Seeing Ioun frown, Melora pats her hands in comfort. “For most of us, we gift our followers with magic, or knowledge, or power, because they in one form or another wished for that guidance and power. There are very few of our collective followers that will ever come in contact with issues the size of us.”

“One in every two centuries.” Ioun mutters under her breath.

“Indeed.”

“But,” Ioun shifts, not dislodging her hand, sighing as she settles again, “the ones who do face those issues, did they ever really have a choice? Or did we just condemn them to it because we gave them our power?”

“There isn’t anyway to ever truly tell.”

In a flash, Ioun shoots to her feet, storming across the clearing in clear rage, fists clenched at her sides. “And why not?”

For a moment, Melora only watches as Ioun paces, booted feet stamping the moisture out of the moss, long hair flashing in the sun. She watches as Ioun snarls to herself, one hand unconsciously moving to rest over the deep gash in her stomach, and something settles in Melora.

“Caduceus Clay never asked for my power. Not outright. He was born into his family, and he was thus born into a spiritual understanding of life and death.” Ioun stops pacing, staring at her with wide eyes. “There came a point where he made a choice in his worship of me. Of whether or not to accept my assistance and my presence in his life, and the possibilities those would bring him. He accepted that connection with me, just as he accepts death.” Melora tilts her head, considering her next words. “On the other hand, Fjord Stone never asked for Uk’otoa’s influence. The leviathan pushed and prodded, cajoled a broken soul into accepting his pact in exchange for his own freedom. That pact was made in the Between Place, before the Raven Queen could stake her claim. And when Fjord came to his own conclusions of that power, and gathered his own knowledge, he made his choice. He made his choice throwing the pact blade into the lava pool, and he made his choice when he first sought Caduceus out for advice and comfort. He came to me for protection, and I gave him the tools to become his own person once again.”

Eyes shimmering with held back tears, Ioun raises a hand to her mouth. “And yet we still bring them to a crueler world that the broken have to fix.”

“No, my friend.” Melora smiles, shaking her head and holding out a hand to Ioun, drawing her down to kneel in the moss before her again. “They choose to fix it. Because they see something that may hurt someone else like the ways that they have been hurt, and they say no.”

Ioun huffs a laugh, tears finally slipping free. “Heroes.”

“Indeed.”

Silence settles over the two of them again. Melora waits, rubbing a thumb over Ioun’s knuckles, reveling in the simple feel of silky warm skin under her touch.

“And I suppose you have something to say about the way we bring them closer to death? How they learn not to fear it anymore?”

Reaching up, Melora wipes the tears from Ioun’s face and cups her chin, ducking her own head to meet those purple eyes. “We have also given them the power to reverse death. And they do fear death. They fear death in the way of those who know how fiercely it will hurt once someone is gone from their lives, and they can do nothing about it. They fear death because many of them have already died and have been brought back by their companions. They fear death because they have learned to love more fiercely than most. And that is nothing to be ashamed of causing, Ioun.”

Ioun nods, once hand curling around Melora’s wrist, squeezing it gently in thanks.

“I only regret not searing more of Pelor’s robes off.”

Their laughter echoes through the clearing and through the trees, and somewhere in the depths of an underground cavern around a crackling fire, a warm breeze washes over the sleeping forms of the Mighty Nein.

**Author's Note:**

> *throws first fic I've posted in a year and runs*


End file.
